Got my finger on the trigger, but I don't know who to trust. When I look into your eyes, there's just devils and dust. Were a long long way from home, Bob. Homes a long long way from us. Feel a dirty wind a blowin, devils and dust. I got God on my side and I'm just trying to survive, but if what you do to survive kills the things you love, fear is a powerful thing, it'll turn your heart black, you can trust. It'll take your God filled soul, fill it with devils and dust. Well I dreamed of you last night in a field of blood and stone... the blood began to dry, the smell began to rise. Well I dreamed of you last night in a field of mud and bones and the blood began to dry and the snow began to rise, we've got God on our side and were just trying to survive. But if what you do to survive kills the things you love, fears a powerful thing, it'll turn your heart black, you can trust. It'll take your God filled soul and fill it with devils and dust. Now every woman and every man they won't take a righteous stand, find the love that God wills and the faith that he commands. I've got my finger on the trigger, tonight faith just ain't enough. When I look inside my heart, there's just devils and dust, but I got God on my side and I'm just trying to survive, but if what you do to survive kills the things you love, fears a dangerous thing, it'll turn your heart black you can trust. It'll take your God filled soul, fill it with devils and dust.

"Where does your responsibility begin here? Wiping away the nebula from your sight, you struggle to find where you really are. You're trying to find the direction of the flow, struggling to hold on to the axis of time. But you can't locate the borderline separating dream and reality. Or even the boundary between what's real and what's possible. All you're sure of is that you're in a delicate position. Delicate - and dangerous. You're pulled along, a part of it, unable to pin down the principles of prophecy, or of logic. Like when a river overflows, washing over a town, all road signs have sunk beneath the waves. And all you can see are the anonymous roofs of the sunken houses."

I absolutely love this. It seems like you have knowledge (with no better way to describe it) of the exact amount of detail your piece needs to keep the observer (aka me) interested, the exact amount of gentlenss/sharpness contrast to make it easy on the eyes while again interesting, the exact amount of imagination to reach my own, stir it a little, and leave me clueless and yet satisfied.